I didn't have the will to meet sunshine, or people, or even walk on the streets, after what had followed my last excursion with Erik. I tried to read - to pass my time in less disturbings ways than thinking - but all the books, all the stories written, were too thin to absolve my attention.
"How much more was left to be hidden between us, anyway?"
I left the bed warming shelter, feeling the chilling cold floor under my feet, and paced vigorously to the dressing table, where a little calender rested, gathered with some other remainders of an outside world I was willing to ignore with all my might.
Tracing my fingers through the numbers, I came to the neutral conclusion that it had passed over twenty days since I last saw him. Twenty days. Almost a month.
It doesn't seem like much, does it? No, it's not much, when you have reality to distract and embrace you. Reality is the best drug, followed by work and love. And I had been left without any of those.
For almost a month, my days had been obscurely the same; the same never-ending headache that haunted me in the morning when I woke up, fading only to give way to painful, consuming thoughts.
I never thought that I, who had always been considered a light-headed, happy, careless person, could have such a scary and poisonous side inside of me.
And what brought me in contact with this part of myself? I didn't dare to ask.
There was a chilling and obscure power that forced me and led me to a place where nothing existed, except disillusion. Where everything was cold and dead, and from where, there were times, I thought I would never be allowed to leave again.
I didn't even know if I'd be able and willing to sustain this situation for much longer...
"Things are not as complicated as you are visualizing," would say an optimistic part of myself, while the other would prudently advise me I was not dealing with an ordinary, predictable person. God damn it, I didn't know what to think anymore!
A little irratation showed in my attitude, as I started to go through the few newspapers my mother had gently placed beside my calender, probably in a silent attempt to re-establish my connection with real life.
From somewhere in the middle of the papers, a letter fell to the floor: a single sign of hope, a reminder that there was more that I loved than what I had lost until now, brought through an atmosphere of despair and resignation.
On the envelope, my name written in elegant penmanship. Inside, the same letters said, simply and tenderly:
Grandma at last agrees in sending me to spend the summer off, so M. Jacques (I'm not sure if you remember our neighbor) will be taking me to Paris before the beginning of June!
I've been dreaming of visiting this wonderful city for so long, and I especially look forward to attending the Opera and seeing Meg performing. Hoping to find you doing well, etc,
Sophie."
I leaned against the chair and closed my eyes. So it was true, there was a world surrounding my recently gloomy existence, and from that world my little sister contacted me, bringing with her words the smell of our old town, the stories of our childhood, and memories, endless memories...
Sophie was so dear to me! And through this last month, when everything had become so confusing and senseless to me, I had forgotten that an angel like her existed somewhere, outside of Paris, and loved me unconditionally.
Soon she would be by me, looking upon me with her exquisite dark eyes, letting me into her pure and fantastic world! And I would know that no one except me was entitled to this privilege, that I was the only person Sophie had taught the wonders of a child's fantasies. And perhaps because of that, I had never underestimated the genuine power of children, and mainly, the immeasurable value of keeping a fantasy world inside of ourselves.
Many times I thought about going back home...not Paris, but my beloved hometown, where I could ride my horses, walk around the plantation fields, or follow the course of the river that passed behind our house. And yet during these frequent escapism thoughts, I somehow forgot I had such a precious person as my sister, and especially a very dear person, which was my true self, awaiting me. I was just preoccupied with running away.
But could I blame myself for ignoring this light world that never ceased existing?
No one and nothing could understand what I felt, and least of all, solve it or help it. The present was so adverse that I tried to take refuge in my past. I found myself facing characters that had been gone for too long now, belonging to unsolved situations, which were better forgotten.
I wondered where my brother would be at those times... Although we had a ten years separating us, he had been my best friend throughout my childhood, and a sort of idol to me. We were inseparable...but one day he left. Why did such dear people have to disperse, vanish from our life history without leaving a trace?
Would Erik be one more?
I was tormented by the question: where was the illusion? In thinking that I loved Erik, or in saying that I didin't? He meant madness to me, he took me to a total loss of myself, and yet he was everything! Strange...
"Should we just live moments and forget about all the rest?" I wondered, tired of thinking far too much, analyzing more than experiencing life.
Oh, if only I could! I would have sent everybody to hell and vanished from the face of the earth! No, I needed to keep my sanity and peace. And I needed to put myself together and go on...whatever the price for this façade was...
I only knew I longed to be free, to be myself again! I never knew that moving to Paris would mean adopting a new character for myself, and following totally senseless hermetic social laws. But it didn't matter now...I had to make my choice here, to pick up the path to follow, to choose what position I'd assume before this battlefield life was turning into for me. Tough task.
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